Before I fully gave my soul over to rock n’ roll, I dug Paula Abdul’s music. It was catchy and had a good beat. Plus she was crazy hot, and back then, that went a long way in influencing my musical tastes. So I asked my parents to get me Forever Your Girl. My stepdad went to The Wall (there’s a throwback for you, kids) and came back with this instead.
But I didn’t care. All the hits were there, albeit in a different form. And there were pictures of Abdul. Did I mention that a large part of why I liked her was the fact that she was crazy hot? But how will I feel about this album now that I’m older and a singer’s hotness has only a partial influence on my musical tastes. Let’s give this a spin.
Man, this is jarring. I know these songs, yet they feel all wrong. First off, let me vent of my semantic displeasure with the term remix. Shouldn’t a remix be just changing the levels of everything in the mix? You know, remix = mixing again. Shouldn’t adding new elements or changing tempos qualify as something else? I digress.
Wow, this gets painful quick. I think the remixers just took the songs and hit some of the presequenced settings on their Casio. The “Aw yeah!” on the “Straight Up” remix cracks me up, I could’ve been a remixer in the 90s. Maybe I still can be one. Does DeVry offer a course in remixing?
Most of the tracks clock in just under 7 minutes (with the medley mix clocking just over 7 minutes), but they all seem to last for 20 minutes. Maybe this album contains the key to time manipulation. Perhaps this’d work better if I was in a club, grinding against a hottie, telling her that my uncle knows a guy who goes to the same gym as the window washer for Virgin Records’ executive building.
In closing, listening to this album killed any chance there was of me starting a Paula Abdul cover band. In fact, it killed any chance of me loving music again. Not really. But I feel hollow inside, a hollowness that can only be filled by tacos. To the taco truck!
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